


Intentions

by Code16



Series: As Told [7]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Broken John, Captivity, Compulsions (Mind Control), Kind of mind control, Obedience, Other, Partial Mind Control, Punishment, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:45:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Code16/pseuds/Code16
Summary: "John feels like someone doused him in cold water, the memory of the instruction (not an order, and oh how he suddenly wishes that it were) returning with force as it hadn’t before."





	Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> (There are two references to an event mentioned somewhat with more description in _Absonance_ , where John reacted on reflex by fighting back against some ISA people waking him up before he realized who they were, and was punished for this).

For all their repetitiveness, there are some thing that give him variety across his days. This one’s the ‘dead tired’ kind. By evening getting through his allocated rapes so he can sleep feels like about all he can want. By the last one, he’s pretty sure it’s only the thought of what he’d get for it that keeps him from just falling asleep over the table. When the readout lets him know it was the last, he collapses without even checking if he’s gotten a sneak peak of tomorrow. He’s out of consciousness in under seconds. 

 

He’s woken up by someone shoving him over, then slapping him, the third time hard enough that he tastes blood. ( _ Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react.  _ His body, thank everything, stays where it should be). In the near darkness (control must have turned the not-day light on) he can see a face above him. Not someone he knows, doesn’t look like a uniform. Guest then, probably. Another slap moves his attention again.

“Why the fuck are you dressed?” John feels like someone doused him in cold water, the memory of the instruction (not an order, and oh how he suddenly wishes that it were) returning with force as it hadn’t before. He tries to scramble up, realizes the guest is sitting over him.

“I’m - I’m sorry.” He swallows hard, tries to keep hold. If he starts hyperventilating in front of the guest, that is not going to help at all. “Let me make it up to you - please.” The guest doesn’t look impressed, but he lets John up enough to get out from under the sheet and strip, lets him kneel and take him in his mouth, grinds a foot into his cock before dragging him up again and fucking him, hard enough to make the bed shake. John doesn’t bite down on the sheet, tries to let the guest hear him. (Doesn’t know if it’s the right strategy. The guy was after fucking him in his sleep, maybe he wanted someone quiet and not someone obviously punished. But without orders it’s down to his best guess.)

He doesn’t know if he should follow the guest when he gets up, either. Decides on a yes, gets a punch in the stomach for his trouble before he kneels at the door. Which is probably a good thing. The guest doesn’t order him other punishment. John knows he should take initiative, in likelihood - kneel, at least, or probably better something harder. Show some penitence. He crosses back to the bed and collapses into sleep again.

 

This time he’s woken up by the loudspeaker going siren on him. He drops out of bed and to his knees before even a check of if there’s anyone in the room. There is. Suit pants and all too familiar shoes and just the voice makes him want to crawl back under his sheet and somehow disappear there.

“Well?”

“I forgot.” He’s not even sure how his voice comes out. Can’t hope to think it’ll count for much, anymore than it counted that he didn’t mean to have reflexes on waking up, before. “I’m sorry.” He is hoping, if barely, for the order. Tries to build words to beg for it.

“Answer honestly.” He swallows gratitude. There’s blood in his mouth again (taking a cock doesn’t really help with healing, in most places).

“I forgot. I’m sorry.” 

There’s silence.  _ Please _ feels different in his mouth these days. Like blood, like whatever the guests give him. Like  _ thank you _ .

“Stand up.”   

 

He gets a beating that doesn’t quite send him to Medical, and a few hours on the fucking machine (both senses of that word), and clothing and top sheet privileges revoked for two weeks.

He bites down on his hand and loses track of time before he’s likely halfway done and curls up naked on the bed, when he’s allowed. He doesn’t say it. (He knows he would.)

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr for these kinds of things](http://findundergrounddragoutofwater.tumblr.com). I love fandom social things, and anyone who feels like they might want to message etc me for any reason is encouraged to totally do so.


End file.
